


To Forgive, Divine

by Papillonae



Series: HWD Event: Her Kind (2018) [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Baptism, Christianity, F/F, Forgiveness, Gen, Historical Hetalia, Jan Matejko, Mercy - Freeform, Pagan Gods, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: Holy Saturday, 1387. Lithuania faces many conflicts and doubts as she prepares to be baptized. Loosely based off of the Jan Matejko painting, "The Baptism of Lithuania" (1888).Written for the Hetalia Writers Discord Female Characters Event, Day 7: Historical/Origins.





	To Forgive, Divine

The sun is high and the sky is clear on a particularly favorable Saturday. Lithuania speaks to Jogaila ( _King Władysław II Jagie_ _łło_ , she reminds herself, is the name he must be called from now on) and he tells her they will be calling this day "Holy Saturday" from now on. In preparation for this day, Lithuania’s hair is pulled up and away from her face, braided and wrapped tightly in a bun at the back of her head. She is dressed in a simple, modest white dress, and she does not wear anything more than this. It is customary to arrive at such an event as plain and untouched as possible – a clean slate. _A newborn_.

She travels with Jagiełło, the Boyar princes, and the rest of her people to the Temple of Perkūnas. Lithuania looks to the familiar site, only to find Poland’s people have already gathered around the riverbanks, tending to their animals as they rest. A few of them are dressed in robes of red and white, and of those few, some are holding staves and symbols of their Holy Cross. There are also men in brown robes with very particular hair – _friars_ , Poland had called them once – and they have chalices of water and bottles of oil.

Already, at the very center of the site, a towering image of the crucifixion has been raised before the temple.

It is in this forest teaming with sacred oak trees, before the eyes of Perkūnas himself, that Lithuania and her people must renounce him.

A man stands at the river dressed in golden robes and a tall hat; Lithuania remembers who he is – a bishop. Bishops were important. She watches as one of them, accompanied by a friar, approaches Jagiełło as he takes his seat near Jadwiga. Behind them, under the fluttering of the Polish banner, an altar has been prepared.

Normally Poland is never far from her Queen, and yet somehow she has disappeared among her people. Her absence leaves Lithuania quailing. Her gaze darts between the canopy of oak trees and the distant mountains, then to the sky above her as she tries to calm and comfort herself.

She knows she must disown Perkūnas, just as she must disown _all_ of her gods, but the image of Jesus Christ before her – nailed to the cross by his hands and his feet, crowned with thorns and suffering from a deep wound in his side – offers Lithuania no hope. Only despair.

There is clergyman to her right who has gathered the images and idols of her gods, her _old_ gods, and dumped them unceremoniously in a pile of tinder. Her eyes widen in horror as he takes the torch and sets it ablaze.

Lithuania looks pleadingly to her Grand Duke – her _King_ – but he offers no comfort. Jadwiga’s eyes turn upward as she watches the wind carry the smoke and the heat over the river. On either side of her, the Boyars kneel, awaiting their baptismal rites. She can’t escape.

In the crowd all around her, Lithuania can see so many faces: to her left, a few Polish nobles look on and hold light conversation as the last of the princes kneels; behind her, a soldier is also at his knees, speaking with one of the princes as he turns back to listen; not too far away from the soldier is a small Polish child who has knelt down to pray upon seeing the image of Christ. All of her people are kneeling uncertainly as they await the passing of the Polish clergy to give them their rites before they are sent to the bishop by the river for the immersion.

The clergyman beside her, who had cruelly burned her peoples' sacred images, now dowses the fire with water from a kettle. The sound it makes when it hits the hot embers sounds much like small thunderclaps as the smoke blackens and the flames spark.

Lithuania is unable to keep herself from falling to her hands and knees. In fear, and in grief, the sound is enough to leave her trembling.

Perkūnas is displeased, and she can _feel_ it in the air, upon a pulse that violently shakes the tree limbs high above her. It is as if a great evil has been born! Lithuania remembers how Poland spoke of the Devil: a ruler in the dominion of death, who punishes the wicked and the non-believers. She realizes with terror gripping her heart that she is at the mercy of such evil.

The smoke from the fire pinwheels, and the heat of the flames is so intense. It is all Lithuania can see against the sky: a flaming chariot of vengeance. She squeezes her eyes shut, her lamentation lost over the roar of the fire, and she despairs….

But in her mind’s eye, Lithuania sees Poland standing before her, reaching out her hand, the same way she did on that day…

Lithuania remembers lying in the snow bank, battered and bruised, her heart beating slowly in her ears as her people suffered and dwindled… she was ready to surrender to death. Then Poland reached out her hand. When Lithuania looked up, she saw how the pale sun illuminated the clouds on that hopelessly grey day – how the light wreathed Poland in such a way – how she looked so _divine_ …

Lithuania remembers this, and she finds the strength to lift herself from the ground.

Even when she goes to be baptized in the river, even when she is anointed with oils and made to wear the cross, Lithuania knows herself. Her people know themselves too, as they take their rites, and are cleansed, made new by the river.

There is another harsh wind that rustles through the canopy of the oak trees. It is here that Perkūnas begins his long pursuit of the Devil. It is here that through Jesus Christ, her people are forgiven all their sins and are saved from ever knowing such an evil.

But it is through Poland’s acts of mercy – _blasphemous_ , as the revelation may sound to any God – that Lithuania truly finds new life.

**Author's Note:**

> So, let me share with you a little bit about what I learned about Perkūnas and the Devil (and my information may be a bit jumbled from articles I've read on the Baltic pantheon):
> 
> In Baltic mythology, Perkūnas is a god of thunder, divine fire (lightning), rain, mountains, oak trees, and the sky. You could liken him to gods from other pantheons, such as Thor or Jupiter/Jove. He also symbolizes the creative forces of nature, courage, success, the top of the world, and celestial elements.
> 
> He is said to work in direct opposition to Velnias (the Devil), whose presence is said to have been a Christian influence. Perkūnas is in constant pursuit of Velnias; he takes after him in the sky on a chariot made from fire and stone - and it is this chase that results in the thunderstorms we know today!


End file.
